Spain's Goddamn Fucking Perfect Lips
by AlwaysRain
Summary: Romano always lies; he can't help it. It's natural for him to place a barrier and hide behind it. But one time, Veneziano manages to coax the truth from him and discovers a not-so-shocking secret.


"Fratello? Why do you treat Spain so bad?"  
I huff, frowning at my brother. "I don't know what you're talking about, Veneziano. I don't treat him bad. I treat him the way an idiot should be treated."  
"Yes you do. You call him bad names and make fun of him and hit him and shove him away and never let him help you."  
"I don't need help. Besides, I fucking agreed to go to lunch with him! How is that treating him bad?"  
Feliciano pouts, taking in my agitated appearance; arms crossed, frown firmly in place, legs folded neatly over the arm of the couch I'm sitting on, foot tapping irritably. He glances up at the doorway behind me, pout vanishing for a moment before coming back full-force. Idiot. He has the attention span of a goldfish. Until it comes to something like this.  
"Lovino! Pretty please, just tell me! I won't tell anyone, I promise."  
"No!"  
After a few more minutes, however, I give in.  
"Fine! Just stop whining!"  
He flashes me a bright smile, knowing he's won. Damn cheerful brother. "So? Why are you so mean to Spain?"  
"B-because... You remember that first potato bastard, right? Holy Roman Empire?"  
His smile falls slightly. "Severin... I remember..."  
"W-well, after Nonno left us with Austria and you met him, I saw how happy you were whenever he was around. I didn't want to lose you to him, because you were the only one I had. But then I saw how hurt you were when he left. I said I'd never let anyone hurt you like that ever again. A-and that's why I hate it when the new potato bastard visits. When he goes home, you act the same way you did when the first bastard never came back. I do want you happy, though, Feli, and that macho freak makes you smile so stupidly... Just like you used to for Severin."  
Veneziano's smile returns at complete brightness, his eyes scrunching up happily. "Thank you, Fratello! But... I don't understand what that has to do with Spain."  
"Shut up! I'm getting to it, idiot!" God. I feel so stupid right now. I know my face is bright red, and my curl is probably all crinkled up in embarrassment. "I decided when I saw you so devastated over the first potato-eater that I wouldn't let that happen to me. I wouldn't ever fall in love. But then that bastard Antonio had to come around with his stupid culture and his idiot language and his moronic nicknames and his music and his dancing and his bullfighting and his obliviousness and his tomatoes and his smile and his eyes and his laugh and his hugs and his fucking gorgeous Spanish ass and..."  
I trail off, slapping a hand over my mouth. No way in hell did I just say all that. Especially that last bit. Especially to my idiot brother, who just sits there and smiles.  
"You fell in love with him."  
"No! I mean... Fuck. Yes, okay? I fell in love with the jackass, and now I have to treat him like a piece of shit so I don't get more attached, because then it'll only hurt more when he leaves, only it doesn't fucking work, because every time I see him, I just want to hug him and have him hold me and never let me go and kiss me with those goddamn fucking perfect lips... But I can't let him. It'll hurt too much when he leaves..."  
"I see..." Feliciano smiles sadly at me, like he understands. Which, rare as it is, he probably does. "While you're talking, I have a question." His eyes wander back to the doorway. Idiot. "If Spain were here right now, what would you say to him?"  
"Fuck off, most likely."  
"But what would you want to say?"  
I fidget, staring at my hands. "I know it sounds stupid, and I know you don't speak Spanish, but I'd want... I'd want to say te quiero." Now that I've gotten the first bit out, I can't help the rest flowing from my tongue, all in his stupid language. "Te quiero más que me sea posible. Yo siempre te amaré, y no quiero que me dejas ir. Nunca. Te quiero con todo mi corazón."  
All of a sudden, I feel someone tackle me off the arm of the couch from behind, sending us sprawling to the floor.  
"I love you too, Lovi! I won't leave you! Never, never, never! Tú eres mi alma, mi corazón, mi vida, mi todo!"  
I feel my cheeks blaze a bright red. "What the hell?! When the fuck did you get here? How much did you hear?"  
Spain smirks down at me, and I hear Veneziano laughing as he leaves the room. "Enough. Now, Lovi, mi amor, dame un beso."  
"What? Why the fuck would I kiss you?"  
"Because I have goddamn fucking perfect lips and a fucking gorgeous Spanish ass. Dame un beso, mi amor."  
I squirm, trying to free myself from this humiliation, though he pins my arms at my sides with his knees.  
"No!"  
He frowns, leaning down close and staring into my eyes, voice dangerously serious. "Lovino. I know you're embarrassed. But I also know why you're worried. You've got to trust me. I am not going to ever leave you. I need you. I can't live without you. You are my life, everything I have ever wanted. I love you, and that's a promise."  
I can feel my resolve melting, until I involuntarily give a slight nod of my head. My cheeks are still burning, and I can't decide whether or not I want to punch him. "I'll only believe you if I still get lunch, jackass."  
Old habits are hard to break. He just lets me up, his face splitting into a wide smile. "As you command, mi amor." I blush, glancing at the floor. "And, Romano?"  
I look back up at him, but am met with warm lips on my own, instead of words. Lips. Spain's goddamn fucking perfect lips.


End file.
